


Beastliness is a vile thing

by styne



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bloody Kisses, Cannibalism, Grinding, M/M, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 06:44:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15479895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/styne/pseuds/styne
Summary: Perhaps the hunter understood the trifling lust for blood... The intoxicating, pruriency of the warm fluid that every hunter fought to submit to-- even if those thoughts were suppressed by the sharpest of minds.





	Beastliness is a vile thing

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this at like 5am and I'm very sleep deprived so whoops.
> 
> I probably made spelling errors ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> (Alternative title: Alfred is thirsty af)

The heavy scent of blood coated the air like a thick sheet, truly testing the reminisce of humanity for those who craved it so.

"Forgive me. Pray forgive me." Alfred's voice shook in a whisper as he spoke, collapsing to his knees onto the satternly cobble of Yharnam, praying ever so desperately before his shrine. He was losing himself, and was well aware of it.  
Oh what he would do for just a wink of blood on his tongue, just a drop of the pungent sanguine fluid to coat his taste buds and send him into the euphoria of beasthood he so dearly craved, but alas-- he would not give in to the vexatious thoughts that plagued his mind..

If it were not for the sodden footsteps behind him, Alfred would have not heard the approaching Hunter.

The Executioner stood from his kneeling position, a bit flustered over his actions, being that he thought he was all by his lonesome.

"A-Ah- Good Hunter! You've returned."  
Alfred's voice had a false coating to it-- perhaps tying all too hard to sound seemly.

"Surely you've come to share in your findings." His lips pulled into a tight, almost forced smile, searching for any type of response from the rich green eyes of the hunter before him.  
Before he could speak another word, Alfred's eyes glued themselves onto the deep gash on the crook of the Hunter's shoulder: torn leather split on either side, framing the wound ever so handsomely. How on earth could he have not noticed that sooner-- /smelled/ that sooner.

"You've been wounded, may I assist you?" Alfred asked almost sheepishly, as if asking was a misdeed.. Or maybe it was his intentions that were faulted--  
for being of aid to one in need was no such sin.

The injured hunter was not a man of many words, for he simply nodded his head and closed the distance between the two.  
The rich scent of blood hit Alfred's nose heavier than a pile of bricks, truly taunting every last bit of self control the man had left. Despite his mind screaming at him to back away, to run, Alfred inched closer to the torn flesh, admiring the way he could see the glistening muscle exposed under the skin in the pale moon light. 

Alfred's eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head as he took in another deep breath of the laceration. The redolence of sweet iron tortured his nose unlike anything he had ever experienced, allowing just a glimpse of pure ecstasy into his mind from the deep scent alone.

"A taste.. Merely a taste." His voice scarcely above a whisper, involuntarily speaking on his behalf.

Alfred took a panicked step back, quickly covering his vile, depraved lips with his gloved finger tips.

"You must forgive me dear hunter, how truly inappropriate of me to voice."  
He shook his head hysterically, clearly disturbed by his lack of control. 

"I'm afraid I'm.. losing myself.." The confession was formidable, and he was truly ashamed.

Before the executioner could turn to abscond, the hunter grabbed him by the cloth on his bicep, halting him in his unnerved steps.

"You may." The hunter spoke, gesturing his injured shoulder towards Alfred. The voice was almost foreign, for he had heard no more than a few sentences from this man previously.

Perhaps the hunter understood the trifling lust for blood... The intoxicating, pruriency of the warm fluid that every hunter fought to submit to-- even if those thoughts were suppressed by the sharpest of minds.

"You-- Ah.. A comical man you are.. truly." Alfred forced a laugh just before freezing in place: the realization that the man before him was genuinely offering himself up to the executioner's unsightly desires.

"You'd be mad to allow such a thing. Are you.. certain?" Alfred questioned, allowing his subconscious to take control of his body, slowly inching his face closer and closer to the savory aroma.

"I suppose we've all a minim of madness." The hunter assured the disturbed man before him. Besides the look in his eyes, there was not much to his facial expression; being that the majority of his face was covered by a mask-- however, there was a certain desire, one that Alfred could not quite recognize.. Perhaps the Hunter was just as mad as he.

With not a moment to spare, Alfred began to indulge himself, pressing his face into the broken flesh and lapping up the coagulating blood like a thirsty hound. The weight of his body became prominent as he began to buckle at the knees, truly losing himself in this hysterical state. Alfred grabbed onto the garb of the hunter, using the man to hold his balance as he bathed his tongue against the ruptured flesh and muscle. 

The rush of it all was not only in his head, but below the belt as well. Alfred could feel a particular heat building up in his trousers-- tightening up more and more as the moments passed. Was this the end of Vileblood hunter Alfred? The Executioner, and one truly devoted to his Master, Martyr Logarious? He had not accomplished what he had set out to achieve, and yet the beastlihood of the hunt was taking over him.

He could allow of no such thing.. He certainly couldn't-- However one's desires and ones needs come in different hands.

The weight of the executioner must have become unbearable for the hunter to hold, for the two of them had collapsed onto the mossy, irriguous cobble. These actions did not stop Alfred, however.. Now grinding his stiffening erection on the good Hunter's thigh, he pressed his face deeper into the fleshy wound, earning a pained wail from the other man, muffled behind his mask.

Alfred pulled his face from the now more-so mangled wound, yanking down the Hunter's face mask and smashing his lips into the other's, running his bloodied tongue against the inside of his bottom lip.

"Do you taste it? The sweetness.. the savory blood of such a skilled hunter. Oh! Happy days!" Alfred cried out, face and nose soaked in blood.

The hunter whom laid pinned to the ground had no contest to the executioner's actions, merely licking the residual fluids and tasting it for himself. 

"I crave you like the very blood at my lips." Alfred continued to eagerly grind himself on the Hunter's strong thigh, attempting to release some of the pressure building up under the fabric. 

He was truly, more than ever in an animalistic state of mind, wanting nothing more than to devour the mound of fleshy meat pinned under his weight. A pained whine slipped the Hunter's lips as Alfred took a bite of the muscle, locking his jaw down like the predictor he was and ripping the flesh from bone. 

This was pure bliss.. truly a rapturous moment for the blonde executioner. He could not see, nor hear his surroundings, feeling only the overwhelming beastliness stirring within his mind. As if his limbs had dissolved into nothingness and his consciousness had lifted to another plane, Alfred the Executioner was no longer-- For in this moment it was only the beast and his pray.

Grinding his suffocated erection down brutally on the pained hunter's leg, Alfred could feel his orgasm building quickly. As if the subconscious state of ecstacy he was endowed with wasnt enough, now his body was marrying simultaneously in harmony with his mind, releasing his seed all over the inside of his trousers and groaning deeply into the pulverized mess of blood, flesh, and meat that at one point made up the Hunter's shoulder.

Alfred practically growled as he panted for air, coming back down from his high and shaking as his muscles tried to recollect themselves.

Unfortunately for the good Hunter, it was nearly his time to wake anew in the Hunter's Dream, for the consciousness of this body was meeting its end. Alfred pulled away just in time to watch as the hunter's smile slowly faded into a relaxed expression, next his body fading away into a fog of nothingness. 

Alone again, was Alfred.


End file.
